Hogwarts: The First Era
by Bruul
Summary: Finally, the moment is there. Hogwarts will open its doors for the first time. However, there's many who believe a school for magic should not be allowed. What will happen when the four founders face those who are opposed to concept of a school for magic?
1. Lethal Liquor

**A/N: It's been a long while since I've written a fanfiction. Please R&R, and the next chapter will be up shortly.**

Godric's eyes wandered across the room, inspecting even the smallest detail. The cool, grey walls of his new office were well made and perfectly straight. Wooden beams supported the ceiling, which covered the circle-shaped room. The distinct smell of oak and stone filled the room, giving it a rural touch.

Godric walked over to the massive, oak desk that filled up most of his office. A red banner was neatly folded on top of it. With a quick whip of his wand, Godric nailed the banner to the wall. A golden lion stared into the room, shaking its massive head.

"That's that." Godric sighed. He knew he wasn't even near unpacking his books yet, but he needed a break. He had been working since 5 o'clock this morning. It had taken him most of the morning to attach the bookshelves to the walls, but he was satisfied with the results. Slowly, he walked over to a cabinet, reaching down for a bottle of Firewhiskey. On his way back to his desk, he grabbed a crystal glass, but before he could pour himself a drink, someone knocked on the door.

He swiftly turned around at the sound, his burgundy robe rustling as he did so. "Godric?" A familiar, female voice asked. "Can I come in?"

"Why do you even ask?" Godric muttered, as a beautiful, dark-haired woman opened the door and stepped in, not awaiting his reply. Her royal blue robe curved around her body, her vivid eyes locked on Godric's face. Rowena Ravenclaw was an astounding woman.

"You were going to let me in, no matter what." She smirked, as she sat down on one of the many boxes that contained Godric's book collection. Just like Godric's eyes had done a few minutes earlier, Rowena's eyes observed the room.

"I have to say. You don't have a bad taste, Gryffindor. Then again, I am comparing you to Salazar, so that means nothing." She smirked at Gryffindor, her long eyelashes hiding her eyes. "I do like the red," she said, pointing at the burgundy curtains. "Salazar's green makes everything look so gloomy."

"I thought you liked green?"

"Not as much as I like blue. And nonetheless, you have a sense of style and a eye for detail."

"Why thank you, my dear Ravenclaw." Godric replied politely. His cheeks turned a little pink, as he tried to evade Rowena's eyes. "Would you care for a drink with me?" He asked her, raising the bottle of Firewhiskey. He summoned another glass, not awaiting her answer, and filled both glasses with the mahogany-colored liquor.

"What year is it?" Rowena asked.

"Nine-oh-seven."

"Hmm… a very good year. Must have been a very expensive bottle."

"Actually, I bought it off of a vendor on Nocturne Alley. Bit of a shady character, but it was a bargain I could not resist." He explained, as he handed her one of the crystal glasses.

'_Seven galleons for a premium bottle of Firewhiskey is an incredible offer, even if it was on Nocturne Alley.' _Godric thought to himself.

"It still was pretty expensive, I presume. Seeing as it was brewed in rosewood kegs, _and _it has been made with honey, vanilla and… slight influence of mint." Rowena said, trying to remember all the ingredients of this particular year. "They never use honey anymore..."

His face suddenly twitched as Rowena summed up the composition of his Firewhiskey.

"Wow…" He gawked at Rowena. "You sure do know your lager."

"I normally don't drink Firewhiskey," explained Rowena. "But I make exceptions for exceptional years, like this one."

"So I see." Godric sat himself down into his leather chair, gesturing to Rowena to take a seat as well. Gracefully, she sat herself down upon the edge of his desk, her fingers running over the wooden surface. Her marble hands reached for the glass, as her fingers gently wrapped around it.

"To Hogwarts." Godric toasted, softly knocking his glass into hers. He watched as she took a sip, bringing his glass to his lips again. He watched her left eye twitch, shivering slightly.

"Are you okay?" Godric asked her. "I thought you liked this particular Firewhiskey." His eyes were joking and full of joy, but they quickly filled with horror and confusion.

"I… I don't feel too well." Rowena turned a deadly pale, before her glass fell and splintered into a thousand pieces. The mahogany-colored liquid seemed to scorch the oak floor the moment it made contact.

"Rowena!" Godric ran to her side, catching her falling body. Her eyes were filled with agony. A gurgling noise erupted from her throat, before her complete body turned limb.

Minutes seemed to pass, although it could have not been more than seconds. The scent of scorched wood penetrated the room, bringing Godric back to his senses. The Firewhiskey had been poisoned. Of course, he knew that there were people opposed to the idea of a school for Wiitchcraft and Wizardry, but for them to go this far. Never.

_'__I need to get help!' _Godric lifted Rowena and cradled her against his chest._ 'Salazar! He will know what to do.' _

Godric ran out the door, Rowena still tightly wrapped in his arms. His fit, young body allowed him to sprint down the stairs, but he doubted he would make it to Slytherin's office in time.

"Just keep breathing. You're going to be okay." Godric whispered, his footsteps echoing through the empty halls.


	2. Revelious

**A/N: Part 2. Give me your opinion on the story so far. It would really help me out!**

"Salazar!" Godric cried out, as he slammed the door to Slytherin's office open. Startled, the black-haired man looked up. His features were sharp in the dim light. Dark, intelligent eyes ran over Godric's appearance, then locked upon Rowena.

"What happened?" Salazar's voice was hoarse, as he rose from his seat, rushing to Godric's side.

"I don't know. We were having a drink and the moment she took a sip… She turned pale and fell down. I think someone tried to poison her."

Cold, smooth fingers traced Rowena's face, checked her pulse and then gently opened her eyes. Her dilated pupils stared into the man's face, seeing nothing.

"Place her upon my desk. Quickly!"

Godric responded immediately, gently placing Rowena on the desk.

"Can you get me that bottle?"

"Accio Firewhiskey."

Seconds later, the bottle of Firewhiskey flew into the room, hovering in front of the two men. The liquor seemed undisturbed, even though it had just travelled at immense speed.

"Impressive." Salazar nodded. "Have you been working on your spell work lately?"

Godric answered with a brief nod, his eyes barely leaving Rowena's face.

"Let's get to work."

Salazar poured some of the Firewhiskey into a vial he had just taken out of one of his cabinets. He quickly held his nose above the liquor. It wrinkled in disgust, as the vile smell of poison imbedded itself inside his nostrils.

"If it's as poisonous as it's smell is disgusting, we might actually have a big problem."

Godric's eyes turned even more agonized, now quickly locking on Salazar's face.

"Can you make an antidote or something?"

"I think so, my dear Godric. But it will require time and a lot of ingredients. This potion is something new to me. Whoever poisoned her has a lot of knowledge of potions."

"What do you need? I will do my best to get all of them in time."

"Well, I first need to examine the potion and trace it back to its very roots, before I can say anything about this. But first let me stop this poison dead in its track, before it does too much damage."

After saying this, Salazar took out his wand, mumbling incantations in a tongue Godric did not understand. He watched, as Rowena gained a little color in her face. However, she still remained unconscious.

"Can you give me that cauldron?"

Salazar pointed his finger at a golden cauldron, sitting in one of his glass cabinets. Godric swiftly opened the cabinet door and took out the cauldron, placing it upon the fire Salazar had already started. Salazar's frail fingers poured the contents of his vial into the cauldron, mumbling incantations once more.

"Revelious."

Godric stared into the cauldron, as it changed colors. Red, icy blue, woodland green, solid silver, and back to icy blue again. Different scents filled the room as the colors changed. A sweet, floral scent was replaced by the irony smell of blood, which again was replaced by a stinging, sour smell, before changing to a familiar scent of earth and oak leaves.

"Interesting."

"What's interesting, Salazar?" Godric asked. "You seem… intrigued."

"I am… very intrigued actually."

Salazar's brows furrowed, as he checked the potion again. He grabbed his peacock quill and scribbled down the ingredients. A formidable list formed upon the parchment.

"This is what I need, Gryffindor." Salazar said, as he handed Godric the list. "As you see, quite a long list. Most of these ingredients are easy to get. I underlined the ones I need help with."

"Petals of a midnight rose… Darkwood acorn seeds… _unicorn blood?"_ Godric's voice went up a pitch, as he spoke the last two words. "You need _unicorn blood?_"

"Yes, Godric. Unicorn blood. And I'm afraid the maker of this potion killed the unicorn to acquire this ingredient. Now, I am not going to ask you to kill the unicorn, but nevertheless I need a vial of blood."

Salazar's face was serious, his eyes darkening as he discussed this peculiar ingredient. Killing unicorns was unforgivable.

"You will need to find a way to tap the blood from the unicorn."

"We will find a way, Slytherin." Godric nodded. "What about the other ingredients, though? Where and how am I going to get those?"

"Midnight roses only blossom once every lunar cycle, and they only grow in the Scottish Highlands, Seeing as it has just been new moon, you will need to wait another twenty-five days before you can harvest the petals. About the Darkwood acorn seeds, those you can find in Darkwoodshire. But beware, many shady wizards and witches live there."

"Hmmm… I see." Godric ran his fingers through his hair. "Where would you suggest me to start?"

"If I were you, I'd start with the acorn seeds. Especially, because we need to first find a way to tap the blood from the unicorn." Salazar sighed, imagining the snow white creatures and their pure hearts.

"Darkwoodshire it is then." Godric stated. "Can I trust you to take care of Rowena for as long as I'm gone?"

"Of course, Godric. I will watch over her twenty-four seven. And Helga can help me when she returns from London."

"Thank you, Salazar. You are an honourable man."

Godric leaned over Rowena and pressed a kiss to her cheek, before shaking Salazar's hand.

"I will return when I have acquired all ingredients." He folded the piece of parchment and shoved it into one of his pockets. "Until then… goodbye."

Godric walked towards the door, but Salazar stopped him before he could open it.

"Here, takes this."

Salazar handed him a dark cape with a hood.

"It will shade you during the night, making you almost invisible, and it will protect you from the cold and harsh weather of the Scottish Highlands."

Godric took the cape, a grateful smile upon his face.

"Thank you, my friend."

He once more shook Salazar's hand, more firmly than before, and then left the room. Salazar stared after him, a smirk on his face. There weren't many people who saw him as a friend, and it did him good to have one more.

"Goodbye." He whispered, too low for Godric to hear.


	3. A Cold Meeting

Helga closed her eyes. The late summer sun hit her face, gentle and warm. She sighed contently, enjoying the warmth that tickled her skin. Citizens passed her by, admiring her lustrous robes of yellow satin. "Isn't she the daughter duke's?" A man mumbled to his companion, as Helga caught his eye. The other man nodded slowly, before they continued on their way.

Keeping her eyes closed, Helga tried to reach for her bag. It was filled with many magical instruments, including her wand. Helga's hand disappeared into the folds of her bag, searching for a particular item. A sigh of relief resounded, as she pulled out a leather-bound book, a runic scripture imprinted on the cover. Her fingers undid the clasp and she slowly opened the book.

"Thank Merlin." Helga muttered to herself. It had been near impossible to acquire this book. Dramatic in its virtue, this book contained highly advanced magic. Magic, that even the most experienced wizards and witches like herself had never seen before.

"Constance du Chateau… one of the most powerful and inventive witches so far…"

Helga's voice was thick with respect, as she said the name. Every single witch and wizard in the magical word had heard of Constance du Chateau. The witch who had slain the mighty 'Silver Flame'. This black dragon, that had received her nickname because of her silver flames, had terrorised most of England for over a century. All had feared this mighty creature, not only renowned for her power, but also for her wit. And it had been Constance, who stood against her. It had taken years of practice and research before she was able to find a way to survive the silver fire. But even without her strongest weapon, the 'Silver Flame' was still a formidable enemy. The battle raged for five days, before Constance finally drove her sword through the dragon's throat, killing it instantly.

On the very first page was the spell that had saved Constance's life.

"Protego Flamum."

Helga whispered the words, as if they were the biggest treasure in the world. And to most, this book _was _the biggest treasure in the world. It contained some of world's most powerful spells and charms. Suddenly, another charm caught her eye. 'Cataracto.'

"Cataracto… Closes locks, clasps and other bindings and leaves them locked until the caster uses the anti-charm, 'Patefacio.'"

Helga browsed the book , looking for other useful spells, when suddenly a dark shadow hovered over her.

"A very interesting piece of literature you have there, milady." A deep man's voice said. Helga's eyes flashed up at the man's face. A short, well-kept, brown beard hid part of his face, but his steel blue eyes beamed into hers. A shiver ran down her back. She didn't trust this man, at all.

"It's part of a private collection." She replied, quickly closing the book. She reached for her bag, wanting to the put the book away, but found that the man had sat next to her, leaving the bag out of her reach.

"Is this what you are looking for?" He handed her the bag. One of her fingers made contact with his hand, as she took the bag. Another shiver ran down her spine. Was this man made out of ice?

"T-t-thank you…"

"What is a woman of your respect doing in these quarters, if I may ask. This is not a likely place to find a lady of your standing."

The man gestured around at dirty, depressing buildings and the murky water of a nearby river. Even in the light of the sun, these quarters had the air of poverty and neglect. Dirty faces behind broken windows had been gazing at Helga for hours, but she had been so occupied with her book, that she hadn't even noticed it.

"I went for a stroll and got tired. Therefore I took my relief here, in an attempt to enjoy some peace and quiet."

She hoped he would get the message. He made her feel uneasy, even though in this area, this man normally would've been least of her problems. But there was something about him, that made her fear him more than these bad quarters.

"Would you please allow me to accompany you? I do not wish a lady as yourself to be alone in this district."

"That's very kind of you, monsieur," Helga said, "but I do not deem that necessary."

"Oh, but I insist." The man's hand closer around her wrist. His hand was cold as a blizzard.

"I beg your pardon, monsieur." Helga said, pulling her wrist free. Her eyes narrowed as she observed the man's clothing. A silk, double-breasted jacket covered a satin, white shirt. Strong muscles bulged underneath the fine fabrics. Helga wondered how it had been possible for her to pull free that easily. This man seemed to be incredibly strong, besides being very wealthy.

Helga grabbed her bag and got up from the stone wall she had been sitting upon. But before she could even think of walking away, the man snapped his fingers and a carriage arrived. Helga turned to face the man, who gestured her to get into the carriage. For a second, she tried to figure out a way to escape, but she saw it was effortless. In front of her was the driver, and from behind, she could feel the steel-eyed man approach.

"Do you need some help getting in, milady?" The carriage driver asked Helga politely. Helga nodded, before she took his hand. She quickly stepped in, bringing her bag to her chest. The steel-eyed man followed her in and sat himself down opposite of her.

"Please allow me to introduce myself," the man said sweetly, "my name is William Fulbright."

"Helga Hufflepuff."

"It's a pleasure meeting you, miss Hufflepuff."

"Trust me, _William_, the pleasure is all yours."

Her voice was as cold as the touch of his skin had been. With stern eyes, she glared at the man in front of her.

"Let me get straight to the point," Fulbright said. "You, miss Helga Hufflepuff, have something that belongs to me. An object of immeasurable worth, unique in his kind."

Helga unconsciously brought the bag closer to her chest. Her arms wrapped around it protectively. Fulbright's eyes flashed down towards the bag and then back up to her face again.

"I see you have already figured out what I am talking about." He nodded towards the bag. "Please hand it over," he said, as he suddenly pulled out a wand from one of his pockets. Helga stared at the tip of his wand, before she slowly started to unclasp her bag.

"No!" Fulbright snarled. Helga froze instantly, startled by the ferocious, animalistic sound. "Hand me the bag." He commanded her.

Helga's hands trembled, as she slowly handed the bag to Fulbright. His eyes glistened with fulfilment, as he took it from her. He opened Helga's bag and took out the book. His hands ran over the leather cover and the runic scripture. Helga watched him, envious. She had been searching for this book for over five years, and now it seemed she was going to lose it, moments after she acquired it.

"The silver fire and how to defeat it." He muttered.

Helga's eyes flashed to his face in surprise. For a second, she forgot her fear and anger, as her curiosity took over.

"Is that what the scripture says?"

Fulbright nodded at her, his eyes not leaving the book. He undid the clasp, and slowly opened the book. His eyes stuck to the pages, as he went over all of them.

"So, when are you going to give me the book back and let me go, Mr. Fulbright?" She asked politely.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go, nor can I give you back the book. You are coming with me, until I am able to expose of you."

He grinned at her, before he turning back to the book. A faint memory of his grin remained upon his face. Helga's face turned pale, as his words hit her like arrows piercing her skin, leaving her breathless for a moment, as she tried to come up with a plan. She had to escape!

Helga eyed Fulbright's face and noticed his focus was upon the book and not her. She leaned back into her seat, as her hands slowly travelled to her back. She reached for one of her pockets, searching for her wand, until she realized she had put it in her bag.

'_Merlin's green goat! What now? Focus, Helga, focus! Get yourself together. Muggles escape from situations like these, so it mustn't be that hard for a experienced witch. If only I was able to get my hands on the book, I'd be able to jump out the carriage and make off through these small alleys.'_

Helga looked at her changing surroundings. She had been so busy with Fulbright and the theft of her book, that she hadn't noticed they were moving. Outside were the outlines of the slums of London, lightened up by the orange, afternoon sun. She observed the small alleys, poor, wooden buildings and dirty, unhealthy looking citizens. They had just entered one of the worst districts of 9th century London, the tailor's district.

Fulbright's face was twisted in fascination, as he flipped over the thick, parchment pages. He was too pre-occupied to pay attention to Helga, of which she gladly took advantage.

"Threadneedle Street." Helga muttered under her breathe, as she tried to unravel the destination of the driver. If she wanted to escape, she had to act soon. This district was perfect for escaping, especially because the tailor's district was a maze of small alleys and streets.

'_I have five minutes until we reach the centre of the tailor's district. I'm not going to wait and see where I am going to end up if I do nothing, so… I must act in the upcoming five minutes.'_

Helga stared out the small carriage windows, trying to think ahead, visualising a map she had once seen of this particular district. She was on Wool Street right now, and the best place to make an escape would be one of the next streets. Either Satin Street or Silk Street. Helga flexed her muscles, trying to prepare for a sprint. She watched Satin Street pass by, counting down from five in her head.

'_Five, four, three, two… one…. NOW!' _

She cried out the last word, as she got up in a flash. Her intuition took over, shutting down her brain. With a solid punch, she hit Fulbright in the face, as she grabbed her book and bag. She threw open the door, and jumped out the moving carriage. A thug to her dress made her realize she was stuck to the door, but with a ripping sound, a large part of her dress came off, setting her free. Her dress had been transformed into a short skirt in less than a second. She sighed, as she looked at the ruined fabric and ran down Silk Street. She quickly noticed that running was a lot easier now that she had lost part of her dress.

After about fifty feet, she shot a glance over her shoulder, but neither the carriage nor Fulbright were to be seen. She kept on running, as she turned left into one of the side alleys. Once she entered the alley, she slowed her pace, until she came to a final stop. She sucked in a big gulp of oxygen, trying to even her breathing.

"That was a _very _close call, Helga." She muttered to herself. A cold breeze cooled Helga's heated skin, while the shadows of the dirty buildings shaded her from the sun. Her brain started functioning again, as millions of thought raced through her mind.

'_How did they know I had the book? Did they follow me from the moment I got it? Or did someone tell them I had it? Why didn't they chase me?'_

Her thoughts were cut short when a shadow came over her. She turned around, but she found herself already surrounded by a dozen men. She reached down her bag, pulling out her wand within the blink of an eye. She whipped her wand with force and at least four of the men fell to the floor, petrified and unable to move.

Helga turned on her heels, running through the newly appeared gap. Hands grasped her torn dress, but she was able to pull free, as she launched more spells over her shoulder.

"Get her!" A familiar voice behind her ordered. She heard the footfalls of multiple men following her, as she ran through the maze of alleys. Her heart pounded in her chest, sweat running down her flushed face.

She could hear the men getting closer, fingers reaching for her dress.

'_I'm not going to make it.'_

With one last effort, Helga sprinted forward, trying to outrun her pursuers. She turned left at a crossroad of alleys. Seconds later, she wished she had turned right, as she stared at a blind wall. Feet came to a stop behind her. She heard men gasping for air, some groaning.

"Hands us the book, and you'll remain unharmed," the same familiar voice said.

"Deal…" Helga whispered. She reached into her bag, as she slowly turned around. Pulling out the book, she witnessed the total surprise on Fulbright's face. He hadn't expect her to give up this easily. Not that she was going to give up this easily.

Helga stepped forward, the book in one hand, her wand in the other.

"I see you have regained your intellect, Miss Hufflepuff. Now give me the book and you can go freely."

A grin appeared on Fulbright's face, but it quickly disappeared when he watched Helga's wand whip down.

"Stop her! NOW!"

"Cataracto!"

The clasp of the book sealed itself with a loud thud, hiding the counter spell inside its covers. But both the spell as the sound of the clasp had gone unnoticed, for the loud footfalls and cries of angers of multiple men had filled the air.

Helga braced herself for the impact, trying to curse as many as possible, but strong arms overpowered her, making her attempts futile. With one, last effort, she tried to escape the iron bounds of her attackers, but one of the men hit her from behind, knocking her down. Her vision blurred, before completely turning black. Helga was unconscious before she even hit the warm soil.


End file.
